Fleurette and Meg stood outside the building looking up at the sunny sky. "I've been thinking." Meg said slowly, Fleurette looked over at her. "Well actually it's more mother's idea." Fleurette nodded at her to continue. Meg sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm going to continue singing." Meg confessed, Fleurette's expression saddened slightly.
"That's great."
"Oh, Fleur! You are such a bad actress." The blonde giggled and put an arm around her shoulders. "I get it. You are mad, you are left to your own devices. I mean we were a team after all."
"I think it is great." Fleurette pressed, Meg looked like she was debating over her words. She smiled and put an arm around Meg's shoulders in return. "You follow something you like and enjoy. You find enjoyment in continuing singing, that's great."
"You're going to continue to dance?"
"Yes."
"You know he's not going to agree with that."
"Pfft." Fleurette said while moving away from her side. "I'm not here to become a vocal replacement. Or a project. This dawned on me when I saw Gangle and Squelch doing something they love. They're both such good acrobats. I am a good dancer, and I wish to stay as such." Fleurette didn't sign up for being a pet project for anyone, least of all Erik, as bad as that was.
"So stubborn!" Meg exclaimed. Wagging a finger she grinned, "You'll pick singing back up. You will because it is fun."
"More like I will because I'll get forced to." Fleurette said a little bitterly.
"Woah," Meg breathed. "You got some angst needing to come out there, Fleur?"
"I don't like being changed." She said while leaning back against the wall. "I knew who I was back home, then my mother passed and I didn't know who I was. I discovered wonders in books, the thought of writing came to mind. But my father shot that down." She paused, her expression and tone hard as she glared at nothing. "You see, as much as my mother pressed Eleanor and me, I never wanted to dance. I just happen to have some skill. My father in some ways used this." Fleurette looked at Meg. "My father changed me twice, from wanting to be an author, to becoming a dancer. Do not get me wrong, I am not wholly bitter because if this didn't happen I'd never have met you or Erik." Fleurette frowned in thought, there were mixed emotions still with her father and the past. "But in saying that, Erik does not understand dancing, he understands music. Music is his love, like dancing is mine and like singing is yours." Fleurette pushed away from the wall and ran a hand through her hair. "I cannot do something which I have very little interest in."
"I know, you're stubborn as anything and I've known from day one that you've hated against the notion of singing. Not sure why," Meg pouted thoughtfully. "Your voice isn't that bad." She joked, Fleurette narrowed her eyes playfully at her.
"It isn't my voice which is the problem." Fleurette looked at Meg with an honest but sad smile. "When we met, I was a dancer and only such. That is who Erik became fond of. The problem is the notion of singing on a whole because I do not wish to become a substitute for someone else. I do not wish to become a replacement, or a copycat."
Meg's eyes suddenly flickered with recognition. "You don't want to become a Christine substitute."
"Exactly. Try as he might to deny it, he does still hold her dear...in a small way."
Meg frowned confused. "How on earth did you figure that out? I can barely tell if he's in a good mood or not!"
Fleurette sighed, "Talk to him about singing and watch his expression, when it comes to voices Meg, he only really cares for one person's." Fleurette shrugged. "And as far as we know that someone is in France still."
—
Sitting in the front row, Fleurette happily read over the much delayed reply from Eleanor. She was expecting as such but even still. "What's got you smiling?" Gangle flopped over the seat beside her.
"A letter?" Squelch appeared in the other side of her.
"From who?" Fleck stood on the chair directly behind Fleurette and had stood up on it to peer over her shoulder.
"My sister." Fleurette replied. "She is back in France. I told her I would write every day. But I had difficulty in doing that considering the rough start we've had here."
"Oh," all three said in unison.
"You miss her." Fleck said while plaiting Fleurette's hair.
"Terribly."
"You regret moving over here?"
"No."
"Said with no conviction! She's telling the truth." Squelch declared.
"That or she's an excellent liar." Gangle narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her.
"She's an awful liar actually," Meg giggled and walked across the stage with numerous people with her.
"What are you doing?" Fleurette leaned forwards in the chair and looked up at her friend interestedly.
"Practising."
"For?"
"We've got a week to get this place sorted, those who are not practising shall do that, take it in turns. Then at the end of the week we shall perform." Madame Giry explained in a stern tone.
Fleurette smiled slowly, she had oddly missed her strict ways. "Brilliant." Looking to the trio around her she smiled. "I do believe we're some of the first to start cleaning duty."
After several hours of rushing around the main hall was almost spotless. The dust sheets which were thrown over the seats had been removed. Soft, plush deep red cushions were now on show to everyone who inhabited the theatre. The foyer had been cleaned of broken glass and dried leaves which were crumbling away on the floor. Even the windows were starting to look back to their normal standard. Whistling and dropping a cloth in a bucket, Fleurette looked out of the now clean window. Her eyes skimmed over the city beyond the bay. The bright city seemed like the polar opposite to this building, even though it had been tidied quite quickly.
She dearly liked to think though that it was slowly beginning to fit in with the rest of the buildings which surrounded it. Reaching down she picked up the bucket and started walking down the corridor. This place didn't set her on edge as much anymore, she was rather comfortable living here even after two days. Turning the corner, she briefly watched Meg and the group of women she had with her dance and sing. A smile appeared on her face, she was happy that Meg was doing something which she got enjoyment out of. She really did mean her earlier words.
"I do believe Giry has something in mind for you."
"What did you tell her?" Fleurette asked as she continued to walk. A few times she stopped or paused to readjust her grip on the bucket handle.
Erik frowned, "Nothing. But I do believe that after your solo performance she has something else in mind for you."
Fleurette looked up at him. "The routines she is teaching here, are nothing to what I learned back home." It was the truth, there was no traditional moves of ballet. Whatever that routine involved, she didn't know. Eventually she got to the back door and emptied the bucket. When she returned back inside she frowned when she could hear Giry calling for her.
Erik looked at her. "Best not keep her waiting, she sounds rather impatient."
"Well, she shouldn't have said we'd be ready in a week, I mean seriously? What is she thinking?"
"I'd rather not know." Erik said with a dazed look. Fleurette let out a laugh and put the bucket down. Crossing her arms, she nodded agreeing with him, straightening out the sleeves of her emerald dress she walked forwards. She stopped in the middle of the stage though once she walked on.
Madame Giry stood at the front of the stage with a stern look in her face. Fleurette narrowed her eyes, she had a bad feeling about this. "You saw the last routine?"
"Some of it, I've been busy cleaning, you see." Fleurette said sarcastically.
"Your routine will be of something similar."
Fleurette looked at her deadpanned. "No." She said seriously. "I do not wish to dance like that." It was only the two of them now so it wasn't like her words would offend her friend.
"Then what will you do?" Giry asked in a blunt tone. "If you dance like you did in your solo, you shall be the odd one out." Giry said simply not really caring for her forwardness. "I don't know what you-"
"I forget the dream. Why do you stare up at the sky?" Fleurette sung ever softly. So softly that the melodic sound may have been lost if there were many people in the space. "Even the played melody is a wound of unfulfilled dream now." She sung while glaring at Giry and having her fists clenched at her sides. Fleurette sung stronger this time, with more determined annoyance in her tone. She was annoyed, she was put between a rock and a hard place.
To dance like Meg and the small group did, which Fleurette didn't want to do in the slightest. Or to sing and get tutoring again, which she equally didn't want to do because she really did fear about becoming a replacement. These fears were never present when everything was simple. But bringing up singing and music and all of that Fleurette could easily see Erik getting carried away. Either way, she was on a losing bargain. Dance moves which would no doubt make some old men happy, or singing out of sheer aggravation.
Giry's eyes widened slightly, shaking her head she looked at her with a surprised expression. "Trust me right now when I say this, singing is the worst option, but I have some dignity." Fleurette said getting a quick jibe in at the slightly risky routine which Giry was instructing. Turning sharply she walked off of the stage, she passed Erik and continued going. He turned and watched her walk away. He was confused to say the least. Fleurette was being very allusive at the moment, and in truth it bothered him.
Walking onto the roof, Erik wasn't surprised to see Fleurette had discovered the door and corridor which led up here. How he knew she was up here was through a gut feeling. She had heard his footsteps and turned to look at him. Erik frowned when he was on the receiving end of a harsh look. "You liar." She said deadly serious. Fleurette when being as blatantly serious as possible was an odd thing. It didn't happen often but when it did, it was quite shocking. Erik was taken back slightly. "You said something to her! How could you?!" At this point she had turned to look at him fully.
"Because you have a talent which you are wasting."
"...And my dancing is what exactly?" She didn't care if it was a potential talent she was wasting, it was her unknown talent to waste, if that was the case.
"One skill of perhaps many that you own."
Fleurette shook her head. "From the start you've wanted this, you've wanted a little project to do on the sidelines between us coming here and moving into some place solid." She shook her head sadly. "How could you put me in this position? The one thing I loved doing is like trash over here, and the one thing I wanted to avoid is going ahead anyway." Pinching the bridge of her nose she sighed heavily. Leaning down and resting her hands on her knees she breathed deeply.
It took Erik a few moments to realise that she was hyperventilating. Rushing over he put a hand on her back. "Slow breaths, Fleurette."
"Not helping." She gasped. "In fear of fainting, I'll say this now." She spoke quickly while her breath hitched. "I wanted to avoid singing because then I'd become a substitute, clearly...yet you already knew that..." She spoke quickly, not being able to control her breathing she ended up keeling over.
Erik caught her and frowned. Picking her up he quickly made his way back into the building. He managed to avoid contact with the people who were roaming the theatre. When he'd reached the underground home, he carefully laid her down. Stepping back he looked down at the ground with a distant gaze before turning and disappearing into the shadows.
—
(Edited: 11/Oct/2023)
(A/N: The lil snippet of lyrics is from an Unsraw song called Kyuumin Oyasumi.)